Summer Time. And The Livin’ is . . . er . . .

Ahhhhhh, Summer.  As I said last time, it looms. Bright and cheery.

Sort of.

I mean, okay. We've got a whole lot of this up above our heads:


But then you look down and to the right, and you've got this


That's just confusing.

I mean, what am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to, you know, start my major summer-chickie-babe-preparations, or what?

This is not a laughing matter. Swimsuit season is a minute a way, and I am still winterized. There's a whole lot of work to do. For example, I am a bit jiggly. And someone as white as I am must not jiggle. That is critical. It creates a strobe-light effect as my flesh moves in the sun, which can cause serious accident or injury to the casual observer. As quickly as possible, I need to go from this:


To this:

No, this is not my arm. It belongs to my son. As does all that, er, manly hair. Which brings up another point.

There is an excess of hair upon my general person. You know, we are members of the animal kingdom. We grow and shed our winter coats with the best of them. It's probably time to shed mine. I mean, I could always just corn-row it to keep it in line, but somehow I think I'd be the only one at the pool with that sort of special leg-hair effect going on. Generally, I'd assume that this is not acceptable for me, right?

No. I think I'd better go for something more like a girl. And shaven. And buttery sun-drenched gold.

Which means I gotta do something about my general pasty-greenness–which  we saw in the top picture of my bicep. That's not okay. I must figure out a way to look a whole lot more like a Penelope-Cruz-esque Pirate-Princess than a winter-shrouded-eskimo-chick if I want to make a splash at the pool this summer.


So if I put this all together, I need to:

a) Get a gym membership, stat.

b) Find a laser hair-removal establishment and laser myself to smooth-legged goddessness.


c) Hit a tanning joint so my skin has that sun-kissed golden-griddle effect that God intended it to have. I'm sure he did. A little slip-up in the heavenly paperwork, that's all.

Well. I can do all that. And I'm sure it's entirely affordable. In fact, I'll just do a little research:

Gym membership: between $300 and $400 per year

Laser hair removal: between $200 and $500 per session

Spray-Tanning salon (well yeah! I don't need cancer on top of all of this): $30 a visit


That's a bit of an investment. Especially if you add highlights and hair-extensions on to it:



I know! I've got it. I can't afford all of these beauty treatments. I don't need the cancer-risk of laying out in the sun. Not to mention, I'm getting old and have a boatload of cellulite to hide anyway. All of this expense and trouble is unnecessary. I'll hit the pool the sensible way.

Like this:

It's perfect! No risk of skin cancer, no embarrassingly white legs–I mean, beyond what I'm wearing on them–No need to shave anything. Like, ever. 


You're welcome to take this fine idea and use it to your heart's content. I don't mind.

This could be YOU:

So very fetching, yes?


And SERIOUSLY flattering. Ow! Ow!

I feel so much better now. I can tell you do to.

See you at the beach, baby!

About Janiel 433 Articles
I have managed to keep the same husband for nearly three decades, and the same four children for almost that long - although one or two of them say it has been much longer. I have been writing since I learned to hold a pencil, and trying to make people laugh even longer. I hope to do some good in the world before I go the way of it. And if not, I'd better at least get to visit Ireland.


  1. Janiel, you freaking rock. I loved this post, full of humor and wit. I adore the blonde wig (looks good on you) and I adore the bathing suit pics.

  2. Hee! But I’m kind of serious.

    I almost made my boy shave his armpit so people wouldn’t think I look like an ape. Then I realized no one would never believe that was my muscle, so . . .

    All right. I’m not at all serious. But I do wear shorts with my swimsuit. And I only wear that blonde wig when I’m lip syncing with the Mamas and the Papas. (For you young’uns, they were a very popular 1970’s group. Mama Cass and Michelle Phillips were the lead singers.) (And no, I don’t lip sync by myself in the bathroom. It was an actual lip sync contest. For really old people.)

  3. And by the way, I feel compelled to mention that those awesome plaid pants I’m wearing in my Michelle Phillips getup are my husband’s actual pants. From the 1970’s. He was fourteen and seriously stylin’ when he wore them. There was a matching suit jacket too. His aunt made them for him. They fit me perfectly.

    I once went as my husband for Halloween.

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